Little Life
by Mizzlyday
Summary: When Sam shuns Ziggy's prediction and sets out on a path of his own to stop a family break up, the consequences are more far reaching than he could ever have imagined.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note and disclaimer: I acknowledge that Quantum Leap and its original characters belong to Donald Bellisario.

**Little Life**

**Chapter 1**

As Sam's senses began to reconnect after his latest leap, he was vaguely aware of being in that early morning state of not quite asleep, but not quite awake. He was snuggled up warmly in bed, half swallowed by the soft mattress beneath him and otherwise enveloped by a vast comforter – apart from his right foot, which was poking out and felt noticeably colder. He withdrew it lazily, not allowing the action to break the contented drift of his mind.

At the distant sound of a couple of roosters vocally vying with each other somewhere outside, for a moment Sam was home. He pressed his face deeper into his pillow and released a happy sigh.

A sudden violent chiming behind him caused an involuntarily arch to his back and he was almost frightened from the bed. Rudely awake and with his heart pumping hard he rolled over and stretched across the empty half of the bed to reach the culprit clock.

He found the lever that would silence it and brought the clock closer to his sleepy eyes to check the time: six o'clock. Now awake enough to realise that he wasn't back home in Elk Ridge, he was suddenly struck by the normal apprehensions of a new leap. _Who am I? Where am I? And what do I need to do?_

He made his normal first assessment. He looked around.

The bedroom seemed large, perhaps because of its lofty ceiling and limited furnishings. The décor was simple: white walls, pale brown carpet, faded green curtains not quite fully closed, old furniture – maybe oak – a wardrobe, a tall chest of drawers, a chair at a dresser. Years of leaping experience had taught him to pay attention to details; he noted the grubby overalls slung over the chair juxtaposed with a jumble of feminine items on the dresser and began to create a mental picture of his new situation. Taking the tip from the dresser, he glanced at the empty half of the bed beside him. The pillow was dented. He wasn't alone.

He was about to get up to introduce himself to his new reflection in the dresser mirror when the bedroom door opened. The woman who entered in a floral nightdress and shabby cardigan looked tired and pale. She shrugged off the cardigan, hung it on the wardrobe door knob and crawled in beside Sam, immediately resting her head on the pillow with her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she whispered. Sam noticed that she had one hand on her abdomen and was rubbing it gently.

"No, the clock did that. Are you feeling OK?"

"Not too good. I think I'm getting sick."

Sam watched her quietly for several seconds and for some reason, his instincts urged him to ask a rather unsubstantiated question. "Do you think you could be pregnant?" He didn't really expect the answer he received.

She opened her eyes, turned her head and gazed at Sam, before nodding slowly. "Yes."

"I guess you should visit the doctor and find out for sure," Sam suggested.

"I did already. I am." She replied blandly.

Sam almost laughed. "Really? That's wonderful!" He frowned, noticing her eyes becoming teary. "Isn't it?"

She reached to wipe her eyes. "Yes, I suppose it is." Sam took her free hand and she must have noticed his concern. "Oh, don't worry about me", she said, pausing to wipe her eyes again. "I'm just hormonal."

But Sam was worried. He sensed there was something he didn't know. He glanced at his left hand. _I've got a wedding ring. So unless I'm in the wrong bed, it's not that. Come on, Al._

"How did you guess? I suppose the morning sickness was a clue," she continued without waiting for a response. "I thought I hid it pretty well until today."

Sam felt confused. "Why hide it?"

She hesitated, apparently unable – or unwilling – to answer this question. Then she shook her head slightly, stared up at the ceiling and said softly, "I'm being silly." She turned her head back to him and smiled weakly. "I think you'll need to look after yourself this morning. Can you give Greg a shout and make sure he has breakfast before school?"

"OK. Get some rest."

"Thanks." She rolled over, shut her eyes and pulled the comforter up to her neck.

Sam considered this his cue to get up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, still wondering where this leap could be leading. He turned and gazed thoughtfully at his new 'wife', hoping for inspiration. Led by instinct, he leaned over his side of the bed and was about to kiss her on the forehead, when she seemed to sense his presence, simultaneously opened her eyes and flinched sharply. Sam withdrew, surprised, and she began to fluster with her apologies.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. You were going to kiss me. You can kiss me." She relaxed back on the pillow and Sam noted that she seemed a little shaken. He masked his continuing confusion with a smile, as he leaned back towards her and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

As he withdrew again, she looked up at him and said dejectedly, "I'm sorry I spoiled the moment." Then she cast her eyes down towards the pillow and the conversation was closed.

As Sam straightened up, he heard the unmistakeable whoosh of the Imaging Chamber door opening. He looked up to see Al beckoning silently, before he appeared to step through the bedroom door and was out of sight. Sam quickly made his way out of the room and followed Al into the next room – the bathroom. He locked the door behind him, turned, and was immediately faced with a large mirror above the sink before him.

He took in the features that were reflected back at him: a pleasant but rugged-looking, stubbly face of a tall and fit man, maybe forty, with dark but graying hair.

"How are you, Sam?" Al interrupted his thoughts.

"About to be late for work, I think. Who am I, where am I going and how can I help my wife?"

"Your wife?"

"_His_ wife," Sam said, pointing at the reflection in the mirror. "This leap's about her, isn't it?"

"Good guess. You're Will Newton, a farm laborer. You're thirty seven years old, married to Sandy, one and a bit kids. You're in Westville, Indiana ..."

Sam looked up abruptly. "Indiana?"

"I know, not so far from home, but don't get any ideas. It's May 5th 1969."

"1969 ... my dad's still alive," Sam said needlessly. Al gave him a patient, but long-suffering look and Sam knew it was hopeless to dwell on the matter. "Tell me about Will's wife ..." Her name had escaped him.

"Sandy. In December 1969, she had a baby boy, Daniel. He was born deaf and somehow the family fell apart. Will left in 1972."

"What else?"

"Uh ..." Al paused to check the handlink. "Well, there's no record that either re-married; doesn't look like they even divorced. Oh, here's a surprise for you. You might know this guy. When he left Sandy, he got a job on a farm in Elk Ridge."

Sam leaned in closer to the mirror to examine the face before him. "I don't remember him. But I guess I'd left home by 1972. Is there anything else?"

"Not much," Al continued to scan the handlink display. "Their older son Gregory is a lawyer in Chicago. His first marriage was a wreck. Uh … looks like he did OK second time around. Daniel works in retail. Still lives with his mother."

"So I'm supposed to keep the family together?" Sam guessed. He shrugged at Al. "How?"

"Sam …" Al took a deep breath as though about to speak, but no sound came forth and he took another look at the handlink as though to be absolutely sure as to what he had to say. His apparent reluctance made Sam nervous.

"What?"

Al looked up at Sam again. "Ziggy predicts that there's a ninety-seven percent probability that you're here to encourage Sandy to have an abortion."

Sam was speechless. He fleetingly hoped that he had misheard, but Al's statement repeated itself in his head, filling several seconds of silence. Sam briefly looked Al in the eyes and shook his head, before making a very quiet but sure statement.

"Al, I can't do it."

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"Ziggy's wrong, Al."

"Why do you say that?"

"I can't be here to take a life." Sam paused and sat on the edge of the bath. "I know I've had to kill people before, Al, but it's always been to save myself or others. And I still don't like it. And I know I've had to stand by and watch people die and I haven't been able to help and I don't like that either. But now you're here telling me that the purpose of my leap is to take a life ... this is not just incidental … or passive observation ... you're saying that the whole reason I'm here is to cause a death. I can't do that. It's not for me to decide whether this baby lives or dies." Consumed by disquiet, he gazed up at Al, his brow furrowed and his expression begging an alternative.

Al tried to ease his conscience. "It's not you deciding, it's whoever leaped you in here."

"Whoever leaped me in here doesn't have the right to decide that he shouldn't live," Sam retorted.

"What if it's God?"

Sam hesitated for a moment. "If it's God leaping me in here ... it's still Ziggy making the predictions and I think she's wrong."

"I understand how you feel, Sam, but it's a ninety-seven percent probability. We shouldn't just ignore it."

"She's been wrong before, Al, even with high probabilities. I can't do this. I'll talk to Sandy about the pregnancy and I can try to prepare her to have this baby, but I won't tell her to abort it. I don't have that right. There's got to be another way to keep this family together."

"All right, Sam ..."

"Think about your sister, Al, your sister Trudy. You would never say she shouldn't have been here just because she had Down's syndrome. I mean, I know your family fell apart ..." Sam trailed off, suddenly remembering that Al's childhood hadn't had a happy ending. He noticed the pained look on Al's face and knew he'd probably said too much. Al was only trying to give him the facts, not question his feelings.

Satisfied that Sam had finished, Al continued. This time, he deliberately softened his tone to avoid sounding confrontational, which had never been his intention. "Trudy gave me and my dad a lot of joy. Like I said, I understand. Do what you have to do. Just keep Ziggy's prediction in the back of your mind, because we don't know the full story."

Sam took a couple of seconds before answering. "I'll try." Trying to move past the awkward atmosphere that had developed, he stood up, plugged the sink and started to run the water. He began to wash his face and suddenly had a thought. "Wait a second, Al. It's 1969. Is abortion even legal?"

"Not in Indiana. I guess Sandy might have to travel to California."

"This is ridiculous."

"Well, there're a few other places, but they're either too far, or very restrictive on the circumstances in which it's allowed."

"And California's not too far? Come on, Al."

"Well, I don't know what to suggest. If you're sure Ziggy's wrong, you've got to figure out how else you can help."

"I'm sure." Sam dried his face, emptied the sink and changed the subject. "Al, I need to get to work, but I don't know where to go."

"That's easy. You work for Sandy's father. Go out of your front door, turn right and it's about a mile up the road. Beeches Farm. You can't miss it."

"Thanks, Al." Sam paused. "And I'm sorry. About Trudy ... what I said ..."

Al gave him a forgiving smile. "If I find out anything helpful, I'll let you know. Have fun on the farm." He tapped at the handlink, gave Sam a small wave and disappeared back into the Imaging Chamber.

After finishing in the bathroom, Sam headed to the next room off the landing and peered round the door. The mound in the bed didn't show any signs of stirring. Sam went to the window and opened the curtains. "Greg, it's time to get up. GREG!" When he received no response, Sam went and gently shook what appeared to be a shoulder beneath the comforter. The mound emitted a groan. "Come on, Greg. I've got to go to work and you need to have breakfast before I go."

"Where's Mom?" A sleepy voice responded.

"She's not feeling well."

Greg uncurled himself and rolled onto his back and Sam was surprised to see that he was much older than he had expected – maybe twelve or thirteen. Greg's face showed concern. "She gonna be OK?"

"Yeah, she'll be fine. Just get up and get ready for school, so she doesn't have anything else to worry about."

"OK. What's the time?"

Sam glanced around for a clock and noticed one on Greg's bedside table. "Uh, nearly six thirty."

"Aww, Dad, it's early! Mom wakes me up at seven." Greg pulled the comforter over his head.

"Not early for farmers. Come on, Greg, help me out."

Greg groaned again and pushed the comforter back down. "OK. But only 'cause Mom's sick."

"See you downstairs in fifteen minutes," Sam said as he left the room.

"Twenty if you want me to wash," Greg called back in negotiation.

Sam stuck his head back round the door. "Deal."

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Sam went back to Will and Sandy's room and quickly dressed in a clean-looking shirt and the old overalls that had been on the chair. As he sat on the edge of the bed to put his socks on, he felt Sandy give him a gentle kick from behind.

"Off the bed, you. Those overalls are filthy – I should have washed them last night."

Sam jumped up quickly. "Sorry. Are you feeling any better?"

"A bit. Aren't you going to shave?"

Sam ran his hand over his jaw and chin, realising he'd been so busy talking with Al, he'd forgotten about that. "Uh, I'm running late."

"Is Greg up?"

"Not sure. I'll make sure he eats before I go."

"Don't tell him, Will, OK? About the baby. It's early days."

"OK."

"Have a good day."

"Thanks. Is it safe to kiss you goodbye?"

Sandy smiled at him. "Yeah, it's safe."

Sam softly kissed her on the lips and headed out the door. He paused outside Greg's door before going downstairs.

"Hope you're out of bed, Son." No response. "Greg …?" Sam pushed the door open and wasn't particularly surprised to see Greg still curled up in bed. Sam crossed the room to the bed and pulled the comforter off the dozing boy. "Gregory Newton, get up!"

"Owwwhh," Greg groaned and rolled over. He glanced up at the slightly impatient look Sam was giving him, remembered his mom's condition and decided not to push his 'dad' any further. "OK," he mumbled begrudgingly and eased himself upright.

"Thank you. Breakfast'll be ready in a few minutes." Sam left the room and headed downstairs.

Greg got himself dressed and washed quickly and slipped across the landing to his parents' room. Pushing the door open, he gazed at his mom lying on her side in the bed. Hearing movement, Sandy opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Hi, Kiddo."

"What's wrong, Mom?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, just a little upset stomach." Sandy could see Greg still looked worried. "Come here, Honey." He came and stood beside the bed and she took him by the hand. "You get yourself downstairs for breakfast; I'm going to be fine. Do I get a kiss goodbye?"

Greg considered this for a moment. "Don't want to catch anything … if you're sick."

Sandy looked up at him, wondering if her twelve-year-old could see right through her. "Right. Good thinking. Off you go."

"Bye, Mom."

"Have a nice day." She listened to the sound of his feet scampering down the stairs and thinking about him caused a grin to spread across her face. Then she remembered the new child within her and a dark shadow seemed to fall upon her.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

As Sam made his way down the road, having left the morning rush of family life behind, he began to wonder how he was going to cope with a working day on an unknown farm. Sure, he knew all about farming, but this wasn't his dad's farm. There would be different routines, a different layout and different people. He wasn't sure where he would start.

After just over fifteen minutes, his attention was drawn to a big, old, timber house, set well back from the road with a huge beech tree in the front garden. A wooden plaque reading 'Beeches Farm' was propped against a rock beneath the tree. Al was right; you couldn't miss it. As he began the walk along the long drive to the farm, he heard the Imaging Chamber door open again and Al fell into step beside him.

"Hi, Al. Come to help me on the farm?" he added facetiously, giving Al a quick glance out of the corner of his eye.

"Very funny, Sam. I'm leaving that aspect of this leap completely in your capable hands. I've just been researching Sandy's family and there're some things you need to know."

"Can you tell me their names? I hate not knowing."

"Uh, OK." Al pressed several buttons on the handlink and scanned the results. "Here it is. The dad is George Thomas. He's about seventy, so he should be easy to spot. Then Sandy has an older brother, Joseph, and a younger sister, Elizabeth. She's married to David who works on the farm with you and George." Al paused and shook the handlink. "Oh, blink and you'll miss him – I think Elizabeth's about to go into labor."

"What about Joseph?"

"He's one of the reasons I'm here. He's mentally disabled – quite severely. You'll probably see him around, but he can't do much on the farm. And Ziggy says he dies tomorrow."

"What? Al, that's terrible. Am I here for him too?"

"Possibly. Ziggy seems to think if you can stop him dying, that might increase Sandy's chances of staying with Will for longer."

"How did he die?"

"Records suggest it was an accident. He suffered a head injury. He was in one of the sheds and no one was with him. It seems he fell and hit his head. Will found him."

"Tomorrow? So maybe I can keep an eye on him and stop it happening."

"Maybe, if you don't leap before then. But don't lose sight of the other issue, Sam."

"As if I could. Al, you said Joseph is one of the reasons you're here. What's the other one?"

"Oh, er, Sandy's mother, Rose died a couple of months back. I'm guessing they're still pretty raw from the loss, so tread carefully."

"Right. Thanks for the warning. I've got to get to work, Al. Any idea where I should start?"

"Not the slightest clue. You're the farm boy. Try starting where you would start at home."

"That would be milking, I guess. But I'm a bit late. Maybe I'll wait for someone to tell me what to do."

"You can do better than that. Just throw yourself in. See you later."

"Bye, Al." He watched the hologram vanish on the spot and made his way to the nearest barn.

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As Sam approached the barn he was feeling a bit apprehensive. The mixed sounds of mooing and machinery emanating from the building told him he was about to enter the milking parlor. He entered through an open door and gazed across a sea of Holsteins, some being milked and others waiting. He didn't immediately notice David, who was in the process of unhooking a group of five cows, one by one, from their respective milkers on one side of the parlor. As he unhooked the last of the five and came to open the gate that had been penning them in, he came into view and at once, Sam didn't feel so alone.

He waved as David looked up and saw him. As the five cows filed out, following their noses back to their meadow, Sam came over to David.

"Hi."

"Hey, Will. Man, you're late. I thought you weren't coming."

"Sorry. Sandy wasn't feeling so good this morning and I had to stay and chase Greg out of bed."

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, she was just a little sick. She'll be OK."

"You want to let the other girls go while I hook up the last four?" David gestured to the five cows on the other side of the parlor that were still waiting to be released.

"Right." Sam got to work, relieved that he knew what he was doing. Having released the cows, he set to work cleaning his side of the dairy in the way that was familiar to him, and hoped he wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary for Will.

When David had dealt with the last four cows, he leaned over one of the gates and called to Sam.

"Hey. Can I leave you to finish up here while I sort out the birds?"

"Sure."

"Thanks. Are you still OK to drive across to Bob's place with the calves this afternoon?"

"What?" Sam's mind was immediately flooded with new concerns.

David continued oblivious. "Did you forget? I'd do it myself, but Lizzie could have the baby any time, so I don't really want to put myself too far from home. Will Sandy be OK if you're back late?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I should check with her."

"OK. I guess Dad could take them, if it's a problem."

"I'll speak to her at lunchtime."

"OK. You going to try get that little calf to learn to drink before you take it? I had a go with it last night, but it's still not getting it."

"Calf?" Sam's expression must have had an element of vacancy that amused David.

"You're really not with me this morning, are you?"

Sam tried to recover quickly. "The calf, right. Where is it?"

"In the pen where we left it yesterday, I hope." David gave him a strange look and walked out of the barn, leaving Sam to stew. He carried on cleaning, probably being more meticulous than he would have been, had he not been delaying leaving the now familiar parlor for unknown territory. He was unaware of the moment when Al silently appeared, hovering in mid-air above one of the milking pens. As Sam finished up, Al decided he was bored with waiting to be noticed and suddenly spoke.

"Procrastinating, Sam?" Sam turned sharply and almost lost his balance as his foot slipped into a drainage gully. "Don't tell me you always clean that thoroughly."

"Al! Don't do that! What are you doing up there?"

"I don't want to step in anything."

"You're a hologram! And anyway, if I clean _so_ thoroughly, there should be nothing to step in," Sam retorted.

Al grinned at him and lowered his image to the ground. "I had a look round the farm while you were busy. There're cows, pigs and poultry. Like on your dad's farm. Looks like the pigs are George's forte though. I watched him for a while. He has names for them."

"I'm supposed to be driving somewhere with the calves this afternoon, Al. Should I go? Did Will go?"

Al pressed some buttons on the handlink, read the information, pressed a few more buttons and kept reading. After a while, he looked up. I can't find any record of it, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. The authorities don't spy on every movement of everyone's lives, Sam. At least in the 1960s they didn't ... I'm not so sure about now." He glanced up at Sam with a conspiratorial look. "If it's not on record somewhere, Ziggy doesn't know about it."

"I guess I'll just ask Sandy what she wants me to do."

"OK."

"Al, I have to feed a calf. Where can I find it?"

"Oh, I'm a human map. Follow me."

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Al led Sam to a smaller outbuilding where there were about twenty pens, each containing a calf.

"This is the calf shed, Sam. But I can't tell you which calf to feed."

"Probably, all of them. And that should make it clear which one can't feed itself." Sam glanced around the barn, locating the milk substitute feed. He grinned at Al, feeling quite proud that for once he wasn't at all out of his depth. "Watch and learn!"

He prepared the milk substitute and set about pouring it into buckets for each of the calves. There was a smaller calf in an end pen, which Sam already suspected was the one that would need help. He wasn't wrong. While the other calves were ravenously consuming their meal, this one little calf seemed bewildered.

With Al watching intrigued, Sam climbed into the pen with the little calf and brought the feed bucket closer. Then completely at ease, he slid two of his fingers into its mouth and let it suck. He slowly lowered his hand – with the calf still attached – into the feed bucket, until the calf was sucking at the feed as well as Sam's fingers.

"Aww, that's real cute, Sam."

Sam smiled at him and tried to withdraw his fingers from the bucket, but the calf's muzzle went with him.

"That wasn't meant to happen, right?" Al questioned, seeing the disappointed look on Sam's face.

"It hasn't figured out where the food's coming from yet."

"What're you going to do?"

"Keep trying. I'd rather not take it to some guy I don't know until I see it can feed itself – not when the others are all feeding fine. It might not get noticed."

"I wonder why George is getting rid of the calves," Al said, casting his eyes round the shed.

"Well, I'm not sure how many I'm meant to be taking, but my guess would be that George keeps cows for dairy products, not meat. So he doesn't need the boy calves. They'll go somewhere else to be raised for meat. And if he doesn't want new stock, the girl calves will be sold to people who do want them."

"Not a very bright future for the boy calves. What's this one?"

"Uh … he's a boy."

Al grimaced and looked into the calf's huge brown eyes. "Sorry, buddy."

The calf shed door suddenly swung open and David peered round the doorway. "Will, are you in here?" he called. Sam got up and leaned out of the pen so David could see him. "Oh, there you are," he continued. "I just had a call. Lizzie's having the baby so I've got to go. Uh, chickens are out and fed; apart from that it's all down to you and Dad." He stopped and grinned. "I might be gone a while."

"Take all the time you need."

"You look calm," Al commented, noticing David's laid back attitude to the forthcoming event.

Sam echoed Al's statement and David shrugged. "Happens all the time on the farm, doesn't it?" He hesitated, then added, "And this is even easier – for me at least. I just sit there. Lizzie and the doctor do all the hard work, right?"

Sam chuckled. "Right. Call when you have news."

"Will do."

David ambled out of the shed as though he was just off to lunch, and Sam laughed again and turned to Al. "That guy is so relaxed. I bet nothing fazes him. He should be a leaper."

"Wishing you could trade jobs?"

"Yeah, kind of."

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Sam persevered for another twenty minutes with the calf before it suddenly grasped the concept of drinking from a bucket and he was able to move on to other tasks. Al had lost interest after about five minutes and had retreated back to the project to see if he could learn anything useful from the real Will.

Sam was collecting eggs from the chicken houses when he noticed a small man hovering at the perimeter fence to the chicken pen.

"Hi Joseph," Sam called, correctly guessing the man to be Sandy's brother.

Joseph stared at him without recognition and it suddenly dawned on Sam that Joseph could probably see him as himself and would have no idea who he was. Sam was wondering how to tackle this problem, when Joseph turned and sauntered off without a word.

After collecting the eggs, Sam was wondering where to take them, when he noticed George approaching, being led by the hand by Joseph who was obviously concerned enough about the stranger's presence to seek reassurance. George, of course, perceived his son's agitation, but was unconscious to its cause.

He welcomed Sam cheerily. "Morning, Will."

"Hi, George."

"George?" George looked at him quizzically. "When did we get so formal? I thought I was Dad."

Disconcerted, Sam looked down and scraped at the dusty ground with his boot toe. "Dad. Sorry."

George continued. "David said you seemed out of kilter today. You're not catching what Sandy's got are you? I need you in shape to drive those calves to Bob this afternoon. I spoke to him earlier. He's all ready for you and I said I'd loan you to him for a few hours to fix up some fencing. One of his men broke a leg last week and he could do with the help."

"I don't know. I'm a bit worried about leaving Sandy."

"She's not that sick, is she?"

"No …" Sam hesitated, unsure what to say. "I just think I should check with her first."

"Well, all right. I could go myself, but I won't be as useful as you. I don't like to let the man down – you know he's a good friend."

Sam squirmed at the disappointment in George's tone and hurried to make amends. "I'll see what I can do, Dad."

"Good man. Well, time's-a-wasting. Joe brought me down here – seems something upset him – I'm not sure what." He turned to Joe, who had released his hand. "Joe, would you take the eggs to the kitchen for me?" He looked back to Sam. "I've got some repair jobs you can help me with until lunchtime." He turned again to Joe, who hadn't budged. "Joe, take the eggs from Will."

Sam held the basket of eggs out to Joe, who turned to his father blankly.

"What's the matter, Joe?" Joe was unable to answer, but stared at Sam strangely.

Sam gently placed the basket in Joe's hands. "Here, Joe. Thank you."

"Take them to the house, Joe," George coaxed and Joe started to back away, still looking at Sam.

"See you later, Joe." Sam called, trying to settle him with friendliness. Joe gave him a final stare, before he turned and aimed for the house.

"Seems you're not the only one acting oddly today," George said, clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Let's get you started."

Sam threw himself into repairing the roof and side of one of the barns from where a falling branch had damaged it in a storm. He barely noticed the rest of the morning slip away, and was quite surprised when George called him to stop for lunch.

"Shouldn't we finish?" Sam questioned.

"I'll finish off this afternoon. I want you to get an early start on the road – it's a long drive. You having lunch here?"

"Uh, no, I'm going home to see Sandy."

"Right, well, give me a call if she says you can't drive the calves. Otherwise, I'll see you back here at about one?"

"OK."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sam slipped through the front door of Will's house and entered the kitchen in time to see Sandy about to disappear out the back with a basket of fresh laundry.

"Hey, shouldn't you be resting?"

She paused at the back door, "Hi, Honey. Did you forget your lunch?"

Sam crossed the room, took the basket from her and repeated his question.

She kissed him on the cheek and replied with jovial sarcasm. "Yes, and you and Greg are obviously going to do all the housework around here."

"We can help," Sam suggested, as he carried the basket into the garden. Sandy followed with a bag of pegs.

"Careful, I might hold you to that," she teased, before adding, "I'm feeling better now."

Together, they began to peg the laundry on the washing line. "Why did you come home, anyway?" Sandy queried.

"To check on you. And to ask if you mind me driving some calves to a guy named Bob this afternoon. I think I'll be back late."

"Bob Marshall's place?"

"I guess."

"That's kind of a long way."

"I don't have to go. Your dad said he'd do it if you'd rather I stayed home."

"No," she answered quickly and then added, rolling her eyes, "I think I'd rather _he_ stayed home. Better if you go. I'll be fine. Greg's having supper with Robert's family, so I'll have a nice quiet evening."

"Who's Robert?" Sam asked without thinking.

Sandy looked at Sam as though he'd gone mad. "Your son's best friend – since kindergarten."

Sam struggled to explain himself again. He shrugged and mumbled, "Could have been another Robert."

Sandy looked doubtfully at Sam. "Come inside. I'll make you lunch."

"No, I'll make you lunch. You sit down."

"Ooh, there's an offer I can't refuse." She picked up the empty laundry basket and went indoors, followed by Sam.

As Sam busied himself in the homely little kitchen, he felt himself relaxing into Will's lifestyle. Everything about the Newton family felt right. He couldn't imagine why the arrival of little deaf baby would make things go so drastically wrong. And yet Sandy's reaction to his attempted kiss that morning nagged at him. Surely there was a reason for that, beyond her just being of a jumpy nature. It suddenly occurred to Sam that Al hadn't yet told him anything about the reactions and demeanor of the man in the Waiting Room. Would such details reveal something more sinister about Will Newton? Somehow he didn't think so, but he felt sure there was something he was missing.

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Sam was still pondering over these things two hours later, as he drove the truck southbound along quiet roads through mile after mile of fields. He had managed to extract from George that his destination was Bob Marshall's farm in Crawford County, but as George had pointed out that Will had driven there twice before, Sam wasn't able to get any more detail without arousing suspicion. Al, who had turned up in time to listen in, applied this limited information to records accessed by Ziggy, but had still been unable to confirm an exact location. He gave up in favor of asking Will and promised Sam he would be back with directions as soon as he could. His sudden return intruded on Sam's thoughts.

"Hi, Sam. It took a while, what with Will's memory being full of holes from the leap out, but I think we've got sufficient information to get you to the right place."

"What's he like, Al?"

"What?" Al frowned at the seemingly unconnected question.

"What's Will like?"

"He's OK. Bit dazed from the leap, but friendly, open-minded, seems just a nice guy."

"That's what I figured. But something doesn't add up. I don't believe a deaf baby would make this family break up. They're a great family, Al. Really close. I can feel it. And they've already got experience of a much worse disability. But something happened this morning, and I feel like it's important, but I don't know why."

"What happened?"

"I leaned over to kiss Sandy, when she was in bed with her eyes closed," Sam paused noticing Al smiling suggestively. "Stop it, Al," he snapped, surprising Al with his tone. "As I came towards her, she sensed me there and she flinched."

"You made her jump."

"I think there's more to it."

"You think she's got reason to be afraid of Will?"

"No," Sam said hurriedly. "That doesn't add up. I've just got a gut feeling …" He screwed up his face with the effort of trying to explain. "I'm not sure … something's wrong."

"Shall I have another talk with Will – see if I can get to know him a bit more?"

"That would be great, Al. Thanks."

"Should I tell him about the baby?"

"I guess. It'll look pretty strange if he leaps back in and doesn't have a clue."

"What if Sandy aborts the pregnancy before he comes back?"

Sam hesitated for a moment. "She won't have to, Al."

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Sandy glanced at her watch and muttered her thoughts aloud. "Five thirty. Ironing's done. Dinner's almost ready; can re-heat it for Will later …"

She sighed and lowered herself exhausted into an armchair, realising that before her was the rare opportunity of free time to herself and bemoaning the fact that she didn't really have the energy to make much use of it. Still, reading wouldn't require much effort, if she could stay awake.

She leaned over towards the nearest bookshelf and scanned the titles on offer, before concluding that the lighter reading under the coffee table was about all she felt like tackling at the moment. Bending down for a closer look, she began riffling through the assortment of magazines and caught sight of Greg's baby scrap book buried beneath them.

She pulled the book up onto her lap and grinned at some of the memorabilia she had meticulously pasted into it. Not just photos and birth data, but a newspaper headline from the day before Greg was born, complete with a stain from when she had spilled her coffee when she went into labor and a shortlist of possible baby names, each one carefully debated between herself and Will. The memories were happy, but she suddenly felt tears stinging her eyes and she hugged her not yet rounded belly. "Why can't it be the same for you?" she whispered sorrowfully. "It was all so perfect the first time. I want it to be good for you too. I wanted you so much." She paused as a lump caught in her throat and tears slid down her cheeks. She chewed at the forefinger of her left hand, fighting her pain. "But not like this. I want to love you … and I do ..."

She stopped, unable to continue. Leaning her head back against the armchair, she opened her mouth, taking deep breaths and trying to make the nausea subside. Out in the kitchen the telephone rang.

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The rest of Sam's journey had been uneventful. He had found the farm, met Bob and helped with unloading the calves, before putting in a couple of hours hard work on Bob's fencing. He was just finishing up when Al made an appearance. Unable to speak while working alongside Bob's young laborer, Sam listened silently as Al furnished him with the latest developments.

"Hi, Sam. Oh, you can't talk right now? OK. I'm just going to update you. I told Will about the baby. He was ecstatic, but really surprised. He says they've been trying for another baby since Greg was a toddler and they've never had any success. They'd pretty much accepted that they couldn't have any more kids. I spoke with him for ages, Sam, and whatever your unease is about Sandy, it's nothing to do with Will. He's a good guy."

Sam nodded while his workmate had his back turned.

"I asked him what life's been like at home recently and he said things were a bit subdued after Sandy's mom died – as you'd expect. And there was one other thing. He says Greg's been more attentive of Sandy lately, as if he's concerned about her. At first he thought it was because of her mom dying, but now he's a bit confused by it, 'cause Greg's a normal twelve-year-old. Or he _was._ You know. He's got more important things to think about than his mom, right? Anyway, that's all I got from Will. I'm going to have another look round his house and the farm. Catch up with you later."

Still none the wiser as to the real problem, Sam nodded slightly in acknowledgement and watched Al disappear.

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It was after 6pm when Sam was finally able to leave Bob's farm. Recognising that there was nothing he could do over the next two hours but drive, he turned the radio on in the truck and tried to relax. He was just beginning to succeed, when he was suddenly startled by Al's face peering in the window beside him.

"Al!" he gasped. "Come in and sit beside me, will you?" He turned off the radio and waited while Al adjusted his position.

"Hey, Sam. Got some news for you. George fell down while he was repairing the barn roof."

"What? Is he OK?"

"Yeah, just a sprained ankle, but Sandy's gone over there to take supper to him and Joseph. She seemed kind of edgy going in that house. Is she always like that?

"How do you mean, edgy?"

"Uh, kind of tense. But I don't know her; maybe she's always like that."

"She's not been like that with me, except for that time I tried to kiss her."

"Well, you'll see for yourself if she's still there when you get back."

"I'll be on the road for over an hour yet, Al. Can you stay with her?"

"Why?"

"Because I still haven't got a clue what's going on. You might be able to find out something just by being there."

"All right, I'll see what I can do."

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Hot from his ride, Greg freewheeled his bike into the driveway, discarded it by the side of the house as usual and thundered through the back door. He stopped abruptly in the kitchen, immediately aware of the stillness. He strained his ears to listen for an indication that someone was home, but there was nothing. Uninvited anxiety began to creep through him.

"Mom? Dad?" He called, walking quickly to the bottom of the stairs. "Mom?"

His heart was beating fast now. It wasn't that he was afraid of being home alone. Well, perhaps a bit in the dark. But a more pressing concern was upon him. _Someone should be here._

He went back into the kitchen, and it was then that he noticed a note on the table, held down by the fork at his dad's place setting.

_Greg, Have gone to Grandpa's. Dad's working late. One of us should be home soon. Stay home. Mo__m x_

And in that note, came relief. They were at Grandpa's, together. Dad was with Mom. So Mom was safe. Greg poured himself a glass of juice and gulped it down on the spot, before switching the TV on and flinging himself onto the sofa.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Darkness was beginning to draw in and the sky was threatening rain as Sam drove the empty truck through the main street of Westville, passing houses, a cluster of little shops and more houses. Glad to be nearly back, he decided to drop by Will's house on the way out to Beeches to see if Greg or Sandy were home yet.

Stepping into the front door, Sam found the room unlit except for the flickering light from the TV. Greg glanced briefly in his direction as though to check his identity, before returning his gaze to the comedy that had been keeping him absorbed. Sam stopped and grinned at the familiar old show.

He jabbed at the light switch. "Is your mom back yet?" he enquired.

Immediately distracted, Greg turned to face him. "No, I thought she'd come back with you."

Unaware of any reason for concern, Sam responded casually, "I haven't been back to the farm yet. I'll go get her."

Greg looked horror struck. "Mom said you were working late. You're supposed to be at the farm with her."

"No, I had to drive some calves to another farm. I haven't been there since lunchtime." Sam could see that something was distressing Greg and he hurried to reassure him. "She's all right. She's with Grandpa."

"She shouldn't be there on her own," Greg blurted out, clearly not reassured.

"Why?"

Greg shook his head, subdued, before mumbling, "She just shouldn't."

Sam stared at Greg, suddenly suspecting that the whole mystery of this leap was resting heavily on his small shoulders. Perching on the edge of an armchair across from him, Sam began the careful process of extracting the truth.

"Greg, I need you to tell me why you're worried about your mom; because it doesn't make any sense to me." Greg looked fixedly into his lap as Sam continued. "I can help if you tell me."

He waited patiently as Greg tried to find the words to explain the secret he had been carrying for so many weeks. Still not looking at Sam, he quietly began to speak. "The Saturday after Grandma died we were at the farm and you and Grandpa were somewhere outside and I was playing just out the back. I went in for a drink and I could hear noises in the pantry so I called out to Mom and there was more noise and she came out from the pantry and I think she'd been crying. She put her arm round me and took me outside and I looked back and saw Uncle Joe coming out of the pantry too. I asked Mom what was wrong and she said she was OK. So I asked why she was crying and why she was in the pantry and she said she was upset about Grandma and Uncle Joe was comforting her. But I thought something else was wrong 'cause she sounded all shaky. And I asked her if she wanted me to get you and she said no. And then we waited outside until you came back and she told you we were going home and we walked home."

Greg stopped and for the first time he looked back at Sam, as if expecting a response. Sam was unsure what to say. He felt as though he had just heard the initial evidence of a witness in court: the bare facts without amplification. Now he wanted to cross-examine. To find out what Greg really thought he had walked in on. But how could he ask a twelve-year-old _that_?

As Sam's brain raced, Greg continued. "Did Uncle Joe do something to Mom?" He was searching for some sort of adult wisdom to intervene and make sense of things. Perhaps explain that the bad feeling lurking inside him was unfounded. There had to be a rational explanation for what he had seen. But Sam couldn't seem to formulate a suitable response and again Greg spoke first. "Because I don't really think so, so I didn't know how to tell you about it, but I'm not sure."

Starting to grasp the possible depth of Sandy's problem, Sam was silent in thought for several seconds, until the urgency of the situation compelled Greg to intervene. "Dad. I don't think Mom's been back there on her own since ... I don't want her to be on her own."

Re-alerted, Sam leapt up and made a decisive move towards the door. Briefly turning back, he smiled gently at Greg. "Let's go and bring her home."

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As Sam pulled the truck up in the yard by the farmhouse, the rain began to slap heavily against the windshield. He looked across at Greg who was sitting rigidly in the seat beside him. "Stay here, OK? I'll be back soon." Greg acknowledged Sam with a small nod and Sam stepped down from the cab.

"Dad?" Greg began hoarsely, and Sam paused, leaning back into the cab to protect his face from the rain. "Are you mad ... at me, or Mom, or ..." Greg shrugged, not finishing the sentence.

Sam considered this for a moment. How would he feel if he were Will? Angry? Yes. Sick? Yes. He was relieved that Will wasn't there. He looked back at Greg's pale face. "No, Greg. I just want to help."

Sam crossed the yard in quick strides turning his face away from the driving rain. He was about to climb the steps to the back door, when Al unexpectedly appeared in front of him. Sam stopped abruptly. "Al! Where have you been?"

"Keeping an eye on Sandy like you asked. Where have _you_ been?"

"Never mind that now, Al. Where's Sandy?"

"She's out in one of the sheds. George thinks they might have a power cut if there's a big storm, so he asked her to bring in an old Coleman Lantern."

"Where's Joe?"

"I don't know."

"Show me where Sandy is, Al."

"What's the hurry, Sam?" Al asked, confused, as Sam began to run towards the nearest outbuilding.

"I think Joe may have raped Sandy …"

"What?" Al slapped the side of the handlink and began tapping buttons frenetically.

"If he follows her into a shed in the dark, she might panic …" Sam paused at the door of the wood shed. "SANDY?"

Catching on, Al finished, "And maybe she hits him ... or pushes him down and he dies." Immediately grasping the severity of the situation, Al met Sam's eyes and took his cue. "I'll center myself on her, Sam. Follow my voice. Gooshie, center me on Sandy, NOW." Al vanished and Sam stood still in the open air, straining to hear over the droning rain.

For a moment, there was nothing, and then, faintly, "Sam, over here. Hurry."

Uncertain how far he was from Sam, Al was bellowing as hard as he could. Nearby his side, albeit in holographic form, Sandy hovered in the virtual darkness, wondering fervently why her father had to insist upon her digging out an old lamp rather than using candles or a flashlight for the power cut that probably wouldn't come. With a small flashlight borrowed from the kitchen, she could see the lamp on a shelf towards the back of the shed and out of easy reach. By turning her back to the door, wading into and stretching across a heap of miscellaneous farm junk she knew she could reach it. But turning her back on the only entrance and exit was something she wasn't keen to do just now.

She stood in nervous indecision, wanting to just run back to the house and say she couldn't find the lamp. But with her father unable to walk properly and her brother of limited understanding, they needed a decent light that didn't need to be carried and couldn't easily be knocked over. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath, turned her back to the door and launched herself as quickly as she could towards the lamp. Behind her, Joe's figure sidled quietly into the doorway.

In her state of heightened awareness, Sandy heard or perhaps sensed his movement and whipped around.

"Joe, get out of here!" Al urged. "SAM!"

Al's ongoing yells clashed with her horrified scream and terror overtook rationality. She snatched blindly at the sea of metal around her and finding something she could lift, she flung some unidentified vessel with almost superhuman strength towards the shadowy figure. There was a dull clunk, a loud clatter and some sort of grunt and Joe fell against the shed door. But he remained upright, still blocking the one means of escape.

In final desperation, Sandy's eyes flitted the surroundings and spied a length of thin copper pipe. Rabid with fear, she closed her fist around it and leapt towards her stunned brother with a blood-curdling cry. Wide-eyed, Al made one last bid to summon Sam and then watched helpless as Sandy swung the pipe powerfully towards Joe's head.

Disoriented by dark, rain and panic, Sam ran wildly through and between the outbuildings, knowing he was getting closer, but somehow not quite hitting the target. His fear was renewed as he heard a scream and a jarring metallic sound. And now Al's voice was frantic. Turning a corner, Sam caught sight of Joe's figure pressed against a shed door. He had no time to consider that Joe's crumpled stance meant he was in no condition to cause harm. He just felt rage for the hurt caused to a woman he had come to care for and for a child who had been forced into awareness of a terrible crime.

Sprinting as fast as he could, he slammed his hands and right knee against the shed door, surrounding Joe's short frame and caging him in. A hideous cry crescendoed in his right ear as something hard whacked his forearm with such unexpected force that he yelped and involuntarily cowered against Joe. And Sandy bolted past and disappeared into the night.

For a few moments there was silence but for the relentless rain. Sam slowly raised his head and blinked against the raindrops as Al approached him tentatively. Sam's interception had been so sudden that both were uncertain whether the drama was really over.

"Sam, are you OK?"

"I think so." Even as Sam replied, his arm was telling him otherwise, but driven by the need to find Sandy, he wasn't ready to give in. "Where's Sandy?"

"I'll find her, Sam." He said gently. "You take care of Joe."

"Joe?" Sam looked down at the shivering, whimpering man before him with disdain.

"Sam." Al's voice was stern now. "He needs you too. He's hurt. Get him indoors." Al smiled kindly at Joe and softened his voice. "It's OK, Joe. This is Sam. He's going to look after you and take you home to your dad."

Sam looked at the pair, only now realising that Joe could see Al. He marvelled at Al's compassion and understanding, and suddenly felt the need to reprimand himself for being so quick to judge, remembering that he didn't even know for sure what had happened to Sandy yet.

Al glanced back at Sam to check he was ready to help. Sam nodded slightly, wrapped his arm round Joe and led him back towards the house.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Having left Joe safely tucked up in bed under the watchful eye of George, Sam slumped into a chair at the kitchen table and examined his tender arm. He felt exhausted and would have liked nothing more than to crawl into a warm bed and sleep. He rested his head on the table and was starting to drift off when Al's voice brought him back.

"Sam. Sam!"

"Hi, Al," he replied dozily. "Is Sandy OK?"

"She's fine. She calmed herself down a bit and then took Greg home in the truck. She's waiting up for you."

Sam nodded, rose wearily from his seat and crossed the room to the back door. The rain had stopped and he let the fresh night air wash over him, feeling relieved that some of the intensity of this leap was at least in the past, but miserably aware that he still needed to have a painful talk with Sandy.

"I'm going to walk home, Al. Maybe you should give Will an update. And tell him he must try to remember everything when he comes back. I don't want Sandy to go through anything else alone."

"All right, Sam. But be careful. Don't forget there's more than one vulnerable person involved here."

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Sam stepped in through the front door, and Sandy immediately rushed over and flung her arms around him, pressing herself against his damp clothes and sobbing softly. He returned the embrace and they stood together in the dark silence, the weight of unspoken words bearing heavily on both.

Finally, Sam drew back and gazed warmly into Sandy's eyes. "I need to change out of these wet clothes, but I'll be quick and then we're going to talk. Is that OK?"

She nodded and released him. "I'll make you a hot drink."

In the kitchen with Sandy a short time later, Sam sipped his cocoa and glanced at Al for support, before cautiously beginning a conversation. "David called while I was at your dad's. Lizzie had a boy."

"That's great," Sandy replied, failing to sound enthusiastic. After a few seconds thought, she spoke again. "Will?"

"Hmm," Sam mumbled into his drink.

"Is Joe OK?"

Sam turned to face Sandy and smiled reassuringly. "Yeah, he's going to be fine. He has a big bump on his head, but nothing that won't heal."

"What about your arm?"

Sam put down his mug and rolled up his pajama sleeve. Al winced and Sandy gasped at the swollen area where bruising had already begun to show.

"I'm so sorry, Will," she said, almost tearful.

"Better my arm than Joe's head. It's all right. Really. Nothing broken."

"I was so scared, Will. I just wasn't thinking straight. I ... I could have killed him."

Sam took her hand in both of his. "But you didn't."

"If you hadn't been there ..." She began to cry again and Sam held her soothingly.

"It's over now."

"But it isn't ... you don't know ..."

"I do know. I know something happened to you after your mom died."

Sandy pulled back from him in surprise. "You know?"

"Not everything. I just know Greg saw something. He's been worried about you."

"Greg saw? How can he ...? Oh, tell me he didn't, Will. He can't be hurt by this too."

Sam caressed her hand again. "He doesn't know what he saw. He's guessing. He really just needs to know you're OK ... we're OK."

"Don't hate me, Will."

"I don't. I love you."

"I couldn't stop it happening."

"Joe raped you?"

She gasped abruptly. "_Joe?_ _No_ ... Will, how could you think that? Joe would never hurt me … or anyone. Why would you say that?"

Sam was taken aback by her denial. "I'm … sorry. Greg said he saw you, in the pantry, with Joe. You were crying."

"Is that what he saw?" She looked slightly relieved. "I remember that day. I _was_ crying. Joe came in, and he put his arms around me. He used to do that when I was little, if I was upset. He can't speak, but he knew something was wrong. He wanted to comfort me, Will. He didn't hurt me."

"I don't understand." Sam looked at her in bafflement. "What happened to you?"

She looked down, tears escaping from her eyes once more, and whispered, "It was David."

Sam stared at her, dumbfounded. "David?" Nearby Al began tapping quietly at the handlink buttons.

Sandy braced herself to relive the event. "The night before Greg saw me in the pantry with Joe, I was at the farm. Mom had just died a couple of days before, and me and Lizzie wanted to be at home with Dad and Joe. Part way through the evening I went outside for a while. Just walked round the farm, looked in on the animals, took some time to myself ... you know?"

Sam nodded sympathetically.

"I was in the cow barn and it was dark and someone grabbed me from behind. I was scared for a second, and then I could smell him ... his aftershave or something ... the way David smells, so I thought it was just a stupid, badly-timed joke. Then he turned me around and pushed me down in the straw and his face was covered ... he was being really rough." She was starting to struggle. "I knew it wasn't a joke ... and he ..." she half-swallowed a sob.

"He raped you?"

She nodded and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to blank out the memory. Unnoticed, Al vanished as Sam wrapped her up in his arms.

After a several quiet minutes, Sandy forced herself to continue. "I could feel his wedding ring when he held me, and when his hand was close to my face I saw his watch. It was David's watch ... I _know_ it was him." Frustration was clear in her voice. "But next time I saw him, he acted like nothing had happened. Then tonight ... Joe. I thought David had come back ..."

"Sandy, I'm so sorry I wasn't there to stop him." Not for the first time, Sam was furious with his inability to control the time and place of his leaps.

"You couldn't have known, Will," she replied softly, still resting in the comfort of Sam's embrace.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"I couldn't. Mom had died and Lizzie was having such a hard pregnancy ... I couldn't do it to her. And I didn't think I could identify him well enough to satisfy the police. And it's David ... it just sounds so absurd. Who would believe me?"

Sam looked into her tearful eyes. "I do. We have to say something, Sandy. He might hurt someone else."

"I know. But I don't know how. And the baby, Will. We wanted it so much ... but now ... I'm scared, Will. For the baby, and for us."

Seeing her suffering, Sam felt he had to give her a choice. He tenderly ran his hand through her hair and forced himself to offer what he had so adamantly tried to avoid. "If it's too hard ... we don't have to have the baby." He held his breath for her response.

She gazed back at him and slowly shook her head. "I kind of want to have it, Will. I'm just so sick about what he did. But I wanted another baby … and … I can't just get rid of it. It's not the baby's fault. I felt so awful because you didn't know." She paused. "Do you think it might be OK? I mean, do you think you could love him … or her?"

Sam hesitated, desperately hoping that Will would say the same as him. As he opened his mouth to speak, a movement in his peripheral vision drew his gaze. Al nodded silently at him and slipped out of the room as unobtrusively as he had appeared.

With tears in his own eyes, Sam returned his full attention to Sandy. She watched as he gently placed his hand on her abdomen and she covered his hand with hers. He looked into her eyes and managed a smile. "Yes."

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Sending Sandy up to bed with the promise that he would join her shortly, Sam found Al dozing at the bottom of the stairs. He almost reached out to nudge him, and then remembering, whispered in his ear instead.

"Al!"

Al roused quickly and smiled at his friend. "How are you, Sam?"

"I'm OK. What about them, Al? Will they be all right?"

"Yeah, they're fine. You've done something amazing here." He checked the handlink. "Joe survived ... you know that already. Sandy and Will stayed together. I guess life was a lot easier without a mountain of guilt and secrets in between them," he quipped. "Uh ... Greg married the right girl first time around. And then there's Johnny."

"Who's Johnny?"

"John. It's what Sandy and Will named the baby."

"I thought he was Daniel?"

"He was, the first time." Al shrugged and grinned at Sam. "Obviously Johnny's deafness wasn't the root of the problem," he continued, as he hit the handlink to extract more information.

"He's still deaf?"

"Yeah, he's still deaf; you couldn't change that, Sam. Doesn't look like he let it slow him down though. Listen to this. He became a farmer like Will and when Will eventually took over George's farm, Johnny and Will ran it together. And Johnny's married. But that's not all. In 1993, Will and Johnny saved an entire family after their car crashed into a river near the farm. That's five people who didn't make it in the original history."

"That's great." Sam smiled, but he was still troubled. "Al, what happened to David?"

"Oh, that's an interesting story, Sam." He referred to the handlink again as he spoke. "I had Ziggy do some quick research after Sandy told you about David. In the original history, Sandy said nothing, so he wasn't charged with her rape. A couple of years later, a girl accused him of attempted rape, but nobody believed her. There was no record that he was ever charged with any crime. Who knows what else he got away with?"

"What changed?"

"It seems Sandy and Will spoke with the Sheriff off the record. They didn't ask for any charges to be brought. They just asked him to make a note of what had happened. Then when the girl made the accusation in another town, this Sheriff heard about it and remembered what Sandy had said. Between his testimony and Sandy's and the girl's, David was convicted."

"That's excellent, Al."

"My thoughts exactly."

Still curious, Sam broached another question. "Was Johnny really David's baby?"

"I looked into that. Johnny's appearance doesn't give away any clues and there was no genetic testing back then. Records show that David and Will both had the same blood group – both A positive. So … no way of knowing."

"I guess it doesn't matter now."

"I guess not. You helped a lot of people, Sam. You did really great."

Sam smiled bashfully, and then frowned. "Why haven't I leaped, Al?"

"Uh, maybe because there's something I still need to tell you."

Sam looked at Al curiously.

"Remember I told you that Will moved to Elk Ridge?"

"Yeah, when Sandy and Will split up."

"Right. But I guess Sandy wanted to get away from here after what happened, so Will moved the family to Elk Ridge before the baby came. Will got a job at exactly the same farm as before, but three years earlier. And Greg Newton dated one Katie Beckett from 1972 to 1975."

Sam gazed at him, wide-eyed. "My sister?" Al nodded and Sam laughed and shook his head in disbelief. "Small world, huh?" Al said nothing, but watched him expectantly, a slight grin on his face. Suddenly Sam looked confused. "Wait, Al. Katie eloped with Chuck in 1974 ..."

He trailed off as Al shook his head. "It never happened, Sam. You saved her."

Sam bit his lip and swallowed a huge lump in his throat as blue light enveloped him and he leaped.


End file.
